


Collision

by yaknownyan



Series: Our Hearts Combined Like a Neutron Star [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Break Up, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Unhappy Ending, if you want shotor's behind the scenes moments this is it, like barely mentioning it, listen this is completely self indulgent, v lightly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaknownyan/pseuds/yaknownyan
Summary: Something about it felt almost intimate, the secrecy of it all proving that, even in all this mess, he had found a kindred spirit. Someone who knew the pain his father was capable of, who had the scars to prove it. Someone who understood that, in times like these, the fight for survival was all someone had.First part of the'Our Hearts Combined Like a Neutron Star'series. Alternatively, a brief account of how Shiro and Lotor collided onto each other.
Relationships: Lotor/Shiro (Voltron), brief Lotura and Sheith
Series: Our Hearts Combined Like a Neutron Star [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027347
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Collision

Their first meeting was quiet and rushed. 

Lotor remembers it well. The aqua tinted glass separating him from his captors did nothing to hide the confused, slightly pained expression from the black paladin’s face. He could tell he was expecting something else, perhaps akin to a wild animal. Something closer to the image they had of his father and the rest of the Galra. 

They had muted themselves for privacy, but Lotor could still make out some sentences from their talk by reading their lips.

_What are we going to do with him?_

_He handed himself to us._

_Are you sure this is not a trap?_

He mustered what little strength he had left to sit up, knocking lightly on the glass and causing the team to cease their conversation. They all looked at each other, unsure of what to do, until their leader stepped forward, nodding to the Princess. She tapped on the cell’s pad, and static cut the deafening silence.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked. 

This caused the others to stir, confused at the hospitality to their biggest threat at the moment. 

Lotor himself raised his brows at the assertive, yet inviting voice, “I simply wish to reaffirm my vulnerability. I bear no weapons and I have no official connections to the Galra Empire.” he looked him in the eye, “If I were to kill you all, I would have already done it.”

“Oh, great.” the lanky boy with the blue suit threw his hands up, “Now I _definitely_ trust him. Why not just let him out and invite him to his own quarters?”

The black paladin ignored his sarcasm, “Your reaffirmation is considered, Your Royal Highness.”

Oh. Formal titles. Now this is interesting, “No need for such formalities. You can call me Lotor.”

The Princess, obviously impatient, sighed exasperatedly before deactivating the communication system. Lotor found her loss of composure endearing, even as she turned around, saying something in what one could assume would be in an authoritative tone, before leaving the room. The others, save for the blue and yellow paladin, who would keep first watch, followed closely behind. 

Lotor locked eyes with the scarred Champion as he closed the door. 

\--

  
  


“Is Shiro your real name?”

The man stilled, his composure cracking, but he did not respond. Lotor knew he could hear him. 

He tried again, “I simply wondered if there was more to it.”

There was a long silence, probably as Shiro debated whether sharing this sort of information would come back to haunt him, “It’s a nickname.” he said, finally, “My real name is Shirogane. Takashi Shirogane.”

Lotor humed with interest. On the one time he attended an event in the arena with the generals in secrecy, they had never announced or referred to The Champion by his real name. Ezor, ever so naive, questioned if it was a matter of privacy. 

He knew the real reason, of course. It was simply a dehumanisation tactic.

He stared at the being in front of him, the way his back muscles tensed with every rise and fall of his breath, his large hands wrapped around his own forearms as a makeshift defense mechanism. He knew the power they held. Knew that they had killed things ten times bigger than the both of them. Sometimes smaller. All while growling and howling like a wounded beast, desperately clawing at scraps through means of survival. 

Lotor remembers that was the first time he had ever seen a human, and sure enough, he still looked pretty human to him. Not even Zarkon could strip him of that title. 

“Why do they not call you Takashi?”

“No one calls me that. At least not anymore.”

  
  


\--

The castle ship’s incessant humming, which used to lull him to sleep throughout his lonely nights in the cell, now sounded like a funeral toll. The weight of his shackles was nothing compared to the feeling at the pit of his stomach, the horrid knowledge that not even the saviours of the universe would take him. 

How despicable would you have to be for the heroes to send you to your death sentence? Surely, this would be their last resort, reserved for someone beyond redemption. What had he done wrong? 

Suddenly, the door to the room where his cell was kept slid open. With a heavy sigh, he stood up, ready to be escorted. 

He was not expecting to see Shiro alone, walking across the platform corridor with confidence, his eyes set on Lotor’s like a hawk. 

“Where are the others?” Shiro tapped on the datapad with ease, and the cell door opened. Lotor’s eyes widened, “Are you not worried that I will escape?”

“I will give you something, and you’ll have to hide it until we finish making the exchange.”

He unholstered his bayard from the belt of his uniform, and Lotor flinched. But, instead of using the weapon against it, he offered it to him. 

Lotor stared at it for a minute before looking up, frowning, as if to question why. 

Shiro sighed, “I disagree with the decision made by my team. I can’t do anything about it, but I’ll never forgive myself if I at least don’t give you an opportunity to fight.”

It was a simple gesture, and if anything, it was one to be expected from someone as morally righteous as Shiro. But it was not piteous; Lotor could feel a sense of mutual respect and trust as he took the bayard from his hands. Something about it felt almost intimate, the secrecy of it all proving that, even in all this mess, he had found a kindred spirit. Someone who knew the pain his father was capable of, who had the scars to prove it. Someone who understood that, in times like these, the fight for survival was all someone had. 

“...thank you, Takashi Shirogane.”

Something about him shifted in recognition, “Good luck, Lotor.”

With a gentle smile, he closed the cell and left. 

\--

The celebrations felt like an empty mockery of his victory. He did not blame them for it, of course. He would probably be commemorating with the rest of the team if the spilt blood was not his own. He tried fooling himself, a futile attempt to rid himself of the guilt on his shoulders, but he still killed his own father. 

The Princess trusted him enough to grant him a chamber of his own, much to the blue paladin’s annoyance. It was a nice change of scenery from the cell, but somehow it felt lonelier. Now, he was closer to everyone else, but though the physical barrier between them had been destroyed, there was still something separating him from the rest. 

He wondered if the black paladin… if _Shiro_ had gotten into trouble for helping him. Surely, it did not matter now, right? 

The light knock on his door pulled him out of his train of thought. He waited.

  
“Lotor? It’s me…”

Shiro.

“The door is open. I do not have the code to lock it.”

That’s right. The luxury of privacy was still to be earned. Lotor could easily hack into the device if he wanted to, but he could not afford to lose their trust even further. 

“I would still like to have your permission to enter.” he chuckled to himself, “Makes me sound like a vampire.”

“...What is that?”

“Can I come in or not?”

Lotor huffed, tired of this little game. He opened the door. 

He wasn’t surprised to see Shiro without his armour, but he wasn’t expecting to see him dressed down to his lounge attire. The grey sweatpants did nothing to falter his professional, authoritative demeanour, yet he almost looked… no, vulnerable was not the word, but definitely less threatening. 

“Well, aren’t we getting comfortable?”

The words escaped from his lips before he could help himself. The black paladin looked equally surprised, a light tint colouring his neck and chest before stepping inside. 

There had been barely any time for Lotor to make this room his own. He had no possessions, and even if he did, he would rather not leave them out in the open. 

If Shiro noticed the lack of personality in the room, he did not say anything as he looked around with a curious hum, “It’s bigger than I expected.”

He had nothing to say to that. He had no idea what the other quarters looked like, “Is there anything I can help you with, Shiro?”

Something about the way his name rolled off his tongue caused a shift in the mood. Shiro fidgeted, somewhat bashful. The silence became deafening, something hanging in the air. 

“...how are you?”

It was a simple question. A vague, broad one, to say the least. There were multiple answers to it. At first, Lotor’s instinct was to ask why he would care. A small part of him wanted to laugh.

How was he? _How was he?_

“I am fine.”

His response was curt and dry, definitely not how he intended it to come across. Shiro seemed unshaken by it, pursing his lips while carefully considering his following words, “I thought you might need to talk to someone about this. If you don’t want to, that’s also okay. I just know that, if it were me, I would want some company.”

He wondered if he truly desired company, or if that was the last thing he needed at the moment. Shiro’s sentiment was not unwelcome; even if he did, he would not know how to ask for it. And he felt that the paladin was the same. 

He tried something else instead, “How are the celebrations going?”

Shiro hummed, not outwardly acknowledging Lotor’s offering to change the subject, but sitting himself on the floor, in front of his bed. Lotor took the place next to him, hesitant, as if the room was not his; and it wasn’t, “They can be a wild bunch. I’m glad you let me in, by the way, I needed to calm down.”

“Do you not enjoy parties?”

It was more of an observation, rather than a question. But even so, Shiro laughed at it like it was a joke. 

“I do. I just can’t have a good time knowing you’re cooped up here by yourself.” he shuffled, leaning back against the side of the bed, “Besides, even though he might not have been the greatest of people, a life was still lost today.”

“...you do not need to pretend he was someone worth saving. I knew that man’s conscience was unsalvageable since I was a child.”

“But he still was your father, wasn’t he?”

Lotor’s head snapped in his direction, eyes wide. If there was anyone in the whole universe that should despise Zarkon more than his own son, it would have to be one of his prisoners. Yet here was Takashi Shirogane, baring his depreciative nature masked as selflessness, an attempt at empathy to the offspring of his worst enemy. 

He had gotten it all wrong. Lotor felt the same as him; a life was not lost today. Rather, countless were saved.

His heavy conscience said otherwise.

“Do you not feel avenged?” Lotor asked.

Shiro looked at him, “Do you?”

“Why did you give me the bayard?”

It was a standoff. Question after question. 

“I saw good in you.”

Lotor surrendered, “You do not know me.”

He could not remember the last time someone had looked at him with such kindness. Worship? Countless times, with countless others. Hatred? Far more. But kindness was a feeling he felt unfamiliar with, and he almost squirmed under the attention.

“Yeah, I don’t. But you don’t know me either.” he said. 

_I do_ , he wanted to say. But in reality, he did not. What he knew of him was simply the armour he was forced to wear in order to survive. He knew the rumours, the legend. He might know of the Champion, but he did not know Takashi Shirogane. 

Why did he feel like crying in this sad excuse of a lair, held by this man who he barely knew?

Their hands were touching. He did not cry.

He kissed him instead. 

  
  
  


It all happened too fast; though it seems that this has been a common pattern in Lotor’s life recently. At first, he stilled under his touch, which made Lotor pull away instinctively, an apology already forming on his lips if he had not desperately chased for them again. He could tell he had not had these types of relations in a long time. As if he had rekindled a flame within him, Shiro suddenly seemed eager for any type of affection Lotor was to offer to him. And he would give him anything. 

Which is why he nearly let out a whine as the Black Paladin broke it off this time, flushed from his chest to the tip of his ears, stumbling around his words, “I’m sorry. We… we shouldn’t.”

Ah. So that’s what it was, “I understand. Is there someone else?”

Shiro’s eyes widened, and he barked out a laugh, “What?! No! There hasn’t been someone for a while.” he became redder under the Prince’s curious gaze, and cleared his throat, “I just… feel like I’m taking advantage of you in this delicate time.”

It was Lotor’s turn to laugh. Shiro looked away. 

“Oh. You were not joking. Well, no need to worry about that, you could never take advantage of me.”

“It just seems a bit… inappropriate.”

“You seem to forget that I was the one to initiate this,” Lotor grabbed his jaw, turning Shiro to finally stare into his eyes, “I will respect your wishes if this is not what you want. But based on your reaction, I doubt that is the case.”

Shiro looked away.

“The team wouldn’t like this.”

Lotor wondered how a man who had lost so much could be so selfless, so in tune with the needs of others. His self-sacrificial behaviour would probably anger him if he did not look so charming under the blue lights of the ship. 

“Well, they do not have to know. Just this once,” Lotor cupped his face instead, lips grazing lightly against his and making Shiro shiver upon his touch, “Allow yourself to cave in.”

And so he did.

  
  
  
  


\--

Turns out Shiro was able to cave in more than once. 

What a funny thing, this little affair of theirs. Lotor felt childish, almost giddy, at the sudden change of atmosphere. Movements ago, he was shackled to a cell, fate unknown to him, at the mercy of the paladins of Voltron. 

But in this quintant, he was at the mercy of a single paladin. 

It was like clockwork. At every opportune moment, they would gravitate towards each other, hidden in every nook and cranny of the castle, hands and lips on whatever patch of skin they could find as hushed whispers of sweet nothings found themselves at home. 

Lotor did not mind the moments he shared with Coran and Princess Allura; learning more about his culture, exploring parts of the castle they were comfortable showing him, and simply chatting with them about daily occurrences. But if Shiro felt the need to snatch him away during a rather dull conversation about milkshakes, or whatever they were ranting about with the blue paladin, then he took no offense to such things. 

“You could have just told them I called you for a meeting,” Shiro said, giggling onto his collarbone, “I feel like a teenager, sneaking around like this.”

Lotor hummed in amusement, “You are not old, so cease yapping about it like you are. And it was your choice to keep this a secret.”

“They are already accusing me of favouritism,” a kiss to his jaw, “I don’t want them to think I gave you my bayard because we’re in cahoots with each other.”

He made a point of nibbling where he had laid his lips moments ago, and Lotor scoffed, “ _In cahoots with each other?”_

“For lack of a better term.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Well…” Shiro moved away from Lotor’s grasp, much to his disappointment, “If you truly think that, I could just go back to training and-”

Lotor groaned, pulling Shiro back to where he belonged while the paladin laughed, “Alright. I will try not to take advantage of our… _cahooting_.”

Shiro all but beamed, and Lotor nearly attempted to hold himself back from smooching him senseless. But he was far too weak to deprive himself of this pleasure, and decided to pepper the man’s face with kisses, twirling both around this little hidden corner of their universe.

-

“I am sorry your crew did not take kindly to the idea.”

The faint, purple glow of the black lion’s cockpit may hide his expressions like a mask, but Lotor could see through his eerily calm façade. He was on edge, ready to snap at any moment. It was a faint reminder of what Lotor had seen at the arena, and while that terrified him, it was also a sight to behold. 

Lotor’s own adrenaline had been rushing through his veins ever since Shiro’s little outburst. He liked being defended, taken care of. It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, yet he could get used to it in the long run. He walked up to the pilot’s chair, a slight sway on his hips, and draped himself on Shiro’s shoulders.

“If it’s any consolation, you will make a fine consort.” He whispered.

“We have to put a stop to this.”

Lotor hummed, fingers dipping to trace Shiro’s collarbone under his flight suit, “Oh, I agree. Piloting while distracted is a serious offence, and-”

Shiro turned around to face him, and Lotor soon realised this was not one of his human jokes or customs he could not understand, “I mean _us_ , Lotor.”

Well. That was certainly not the reaction he was expecting.

Lotor unwrapped his arms from him, slowly stepping back.

While he did his best to maintain his composure, a silly, childish side of him wanted to throw a tantrum. He kept his dignity, however, voice unwavering.

“What do you mean?”

The black paladin sighed, as if dealing with a burden he did not have the time nor the patience to endure, “What I did was unacceptable. I can’t let my feelings for you interfere with my relationship with the team.” 

This was ridiculous. He talked as if he was not as guilty.

“Don’t you dare put the blame on me.” Lotor all but spat at him, “You had the free will to make a decision of your own! It is not my fault you cannot deal with the consequences of your own actions! _You_ gave me _your_ bayard!”

“What was I supposed to do?” Shiro’s hand stilled against the steering, “Let you die?! Have the rest of the galra finish the job for your father?!” 

“Well, why did you let me live?” 

“Because I saw good in yo-”

“Lies!” Before he could stop himself, he had grabbed Shiro by the arm, tugging him away from the control board. His blood was boiling, and both of them were lucky enough that his claws had gripped around metal rather than skin. The man barely flinched under his grasp, and Lotor did not know if this served as any comfort to him. He wanted him to flinch, to feel fear, “You never had the guts to chase your own happiness! You cannot _bear_ the thought of being selfish and forging your own path! You are _pathetic!”_

The cockpit shook with what he assumed was the strength of the black lion’s descent to Feyiv’s atmosphere. In mere doboshes, he would join the Kral Zera, light the eternal flame, and become emperor. And yet his rampart heartbeat was not the consequence of nerves, or excitement. 

_“You do not know me.”_

_“Yeah, I don’t. But you don’t know me either.”_

  
  


The landing could not come soon enough. This had all been a reckless decision. Though Shiro was the one who needed convincing to start, Lotor felt as if he had been the fool who dived carelessly into this… this… whatever they were.

What _were_ they? To think that Lotor had called him his consort… was it a joke? Flattery? Why had he done it? 

He let go of his arm.

He was embarrassed. 

Shiro pulled in the breaks, landing the black lion with nothing more than a quiet rumble. Lotor could not bear to look at him, focusing his gaze on the scratch marks on his prosthetic. He could tell without looking that his expression was piteous. 

“...try to follow the plan.” his voice was quiet, barely a whisper, “And stay safe.”

Lotor grumbled in response, and stepped out of the black lion’s open cockpit with murderous intent, though he felt it was something inside of him that died in that moment.

He was used to good things in his life not lasting for long, but this short lived part of his adventure was certainly something he would miss more than others. 

  
  


\--

The coronation was bittersweet. 

Shiro attended the festivities, of course, along with the other paladins. Lotor did not dare to approach him, as they had not spoken since their short argument in the black lion. Still, he watched his every move, even if unintentionally, like a predator stalking his prey. That is, if the predator’s intentions were fuelled by remorse.

In all truthfulness, he was more concerned at Shiro’s reaction to a ship filled to the brim with galra. During one of their nights together, he had told him in secrecy that he still felt discomfort being in galran territory. Lotor had invited Team Voltron out of courtesy, and it’s not that he had expected him to deny his invitation, but he was still surprised to see him there. More so when the rest of the paladins seemed to still hold his betrayal against him, keeping their distance from their leader and only acknowledging him when their paths met. 

That was, save for the former red paladin, who would not leave his side. 

Keith. Lotor recalls Shiro mentioning their friendship in passing. Every so often, Shiro would speak to him, and the blade member would direct his gaze towards the new emperor, fondness shifting to something territorial. Lotor rolled his eyes. Was he not the same Keith that had saved him from the explosions at the Kral Zera? What had changed? 

“May I speak to you, if you have the time?”

His field of vision was blocked by expecting sapphire eyes, and he jolted in surprise. 

Ah, Princess Allura. Lotor began his greeting with a bow, before she worriedly tugged at his arm, “Oh, good heavens! There’s no need for that! You are emperor after all.”

“But you are still royalty. Altean royalty at that.”

And it is true. She was wearing what Lotor recognised as royal Altean garments, often worn at events such as this one. She looked positively ethereal, and he was about to say so out loud before she interrupted him again.

“I am so deeply sorry. For everything.” She seemed as ashamed as she was sincere, and that piqued Lotor’s interest. He waited for her to muster her words, “You must understand that we had our own reasons to doubt you. And though this all seemed to end well, it was a tremendous shock for us when Shiro went against everyone’s wishes.”

“You of all people have every right to doubt the galra, princess.” Lotor said, “There is nothing to apologise for. I simply wish for you to make your own judgement of me. As for the black paladin, I assure you he was not too happy to go behind your back.”

Allura hummed, “Yes, that is precisely the problem, you see. Shiro does not usually do such things. He has not been acting like himself lately.”

Lotor looked behind her shoulder, watching as Shiro chuckled when Keith grimaced at whatever drink he had in his cup. 

“We are not that close, so I would not know.”

\--

He had not expected to find a friend in the princess, and yet it seemed they hardly spent time apart these days. What had been claimed as political camaraderie in the beginning soon developed into an unlikely bond, with their meetings becoming somewhat informal. 

While they spent most of their time discussing plans for the coalition and overlooking their private project regarding the syncline ships and altean alchemy, Lotor found himself often in deep conversation with her; a warm beverage in his hand as a reward for a job well done in their project, and laughing at yet another amusing story she told him.

“And then,” Allura was now reenacting her latest anecdote, twirling around the room, “The chancellor was forced to dance with Coran, as I had refused. Oh, you should have seen his face! Coran was having the time of his life, though!”

She fell back to his side and giggled to herself, tucking a strand of stray moon blessed hair behind her ear. Lotor realised he had been smiling fondly at the princess this entire time, and quickly pretended to be interested in his tea instead, “Do you miss those days?”

Something shifted in her, and she seemed to find sadness in nostalgia, “Very much so.” 

“I wish I had been a part of it.” 

“You will. That is why we are doing this.”

There was something so confident in the way she said this, and yet so innocuous. Lotor turned to look at her, only to find that she had been staring at him all along, smiling softly before blowing the hot steam on her teacup. There was a smudge of grease on her cheek and multiple on her hands, after spending all day working with machinery. He then realised as she moved to pet it that, on her left shoulder, one of the mice slept soundly, tucked onto the crook of her neck.

She truly was incredible, and maybe, Lotor realised with terror, that was the moment he fell in love. 

  
  


\--

  
  
  


The first thing Shiro had noticed upon waking up is how much his body hurt. 

This was beyond comforting. He never realised how much he missed the ache of muscles, the feeling of an empty stomach or a headache. It proved that he had a body to feel all these things with, and that was more than what could be said for him when he was stuck in the astral plane. He sat up, or at least tried to, before strong hands stopped him. 

He tried to make sense of his surroundings. It took him a few good seconds to recognise the inside of the sleeping bunk inside the black lion, and even more so to realise that he was lying in the makeshift bed, covered with a thin sheet of cloth as a blanket. As for the hands that cradled his own, they were Keith’s.

The same smiled, looking absolutely exhausted and disheveled. Shiro wondered if he had gotten any sleep.

“Hey, buddy.” his voice was hoarse, and Shiro realised he had not, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” this time he was allowed to sit up, carefully, as Keith tucked a pillow behind the small of his back, “How is everyone?”

Keith sighed, “Shouldn’t you worry about yourself? Everyone is fine.” he rubbed Shiro’s knuckles with his thumb, “You gave us quite a scare. It’s good to have you back.”

“Well, it’s good to be back.”

They had set camp on the planet in Dalterion’s Belt. Shiro looked around the deserted terrain, and frowned. The Castle of Lions was nowhere to be seen. He wondered if Coran had taken it somewhere to protect it, but the Altean was right there with them. 

Now that he thought about it, the first time he woke up was not in the Castle Ship either. 

He suddenly felt a pit at the bottom of his stomach. Had he somehow damaged it? Was it his fault? He tried to make himself remember, to no avail. He had snippets of memories that were not his own, and yet that he remembers experiencing. To an extent, he could remember the fight at the clone facility with Keith (he tried mentioning it to him, tried to _apologise_ , but the man simply dismissed it and told him they would talk about it later). But it was all a blur. The last time he was aware of being in the castle was...

“Where’s the Castle?”

Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing, an eerie silence and exchanged nervous glances filling in the gaps for Shiro. Still, Allura reached to a string tied around her neck, pulling out a blue crystal no larger than a coin, “This is what’s left of it.”

Shiro was at loss for words. He knew that, no matter what he said, no matter the kind of positive reassurance he could come up with, nothing would be able to comfort Allura. She was forced to give up the last remnants of her culture, her people, her _home_. 

Alteans. Something clicked, he looked around, and sure enough, there was a stranger amongst them. The girl looked out of place, not sure what to do or say in this situation. He recognised the blue markings under her eyes, and felt his throat go dry. 

“...where is Lotor?”

Keith decided to step in, grasping at Shiro’s arm in an attempt to ground him, “Shiro…”

He shook his grip off, stepping back.

“Where is Lotor?”

He repeated himself, not sure if this was a question or a demand. Some refused to look at him, and those who did had pity splattered on their expressions. Allura looked close to tears. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are all prepared for the second part of this, which is even more self indulgent. I wanted to fill in the gaps without revealing too much of what is to come.
> 
> You can yell at me about shotor on my twitter, @neonevangie.


End file.
